


Love and Other Burdens

by somanyfeels



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Artist Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Autistic Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Bad Parent Amanda (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & Markus (Detroit: Become Human) Friendship, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Espionage, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Physical Abuse, Political Alliances, Poor Connor, Post-Revolution, Protective Hank Anderson, Suicidal Thoughts, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2020-06-09 15:43:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19478989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyfeels/pseuds/somanyfeels
Summary: Markus was only a recently made king, a former servant who made a name for himself in a bloody revolution.  New to ruling a kingdom, Markus agrees to marry a prince of a neighboring kingdom to gain political stability and a chance at peace.  Despite that, he can't seem to trust his new husband.





	1. Markus

"They'll be here within the hour," Josh said from over Markus's shoulder.

They were in the library, Markus and all of his advisors waiting for the arrival of his soon to be husband, some foreign prince he had never met. A sign of good peace, the former enemies of Markus's rebellion, the allies of the throne they worked so hard to overthrow, was sending someone as a gift. He didn't like it, but Markus wasn't going to turn away a chance at peace.

"Shouldn't we be getting ready?" Josh said.

Markus didn't turn away from the telescope, bent over and looking at the distant line of carriages coming down the road. He wondered which one carried his betrothed and who exactly was in all the rest. Who were they sending into this new and unstable country and who they sent to marry a new king.

"There's nothing left to do. What can we get done within the next hour that we haven't already spent days doing? The Queen we want to make peace with isn't even coming. Just her son," Markus said. The carriages were coming around the winding road of the mountains and onto the final straight stretch of road.

"He will be here soon. You think he won't be reporting back to her? We need to appear welcoming," Josh said. He was coming closer, his feet echoing in the tiles in fast and nervous patterings. 

"Welcoming? They helped the king who wanted us all enslaved. A few months ago they were our enemies. We are being more than welcoming just by allowing them in the country," Markus said.

They had sent armies last time. Whatever arrangement that foreign Queen had with Jericho's old king was strong enough for them to send a few thousand soldiers in attempt to beat down the revolution, but not strong enough to carry it in now that Markus and his people were victorious. Still, he looked at the ten white carriages coming closer and closer through the eye of the telescope and he wondered just who he was about to welcome into the palace. Spies, no doubt.

But Markus preferred spies to more war.

He stepped away. He didn't like how his thoughts always turned back onto his memories. He may be living in the palace now, the newly instated parliament ensuring that no one else goes mad with power, but they still put the crown on his head and every day it felt so very heavy. His people were the ones who suffered the most, the most casualties and bloodshed and Markus was trying so hard to make things stable. He wanted them all to be at peace and safe and he would marry anyone to achieve that.

He left the library, Josh following close behind. They were all on edge. North had organized the guard stations so that everywhere the foreigners went they had someone watching them. Or at least the appearance of such. She wanted to make the castle look well protected.

Kara and Luther had been left to prepare the feast. With the limited budget and structure of a new government it was difficult to organize a dinner and celebration fit for a royal wedding. The Queen was sending her oldest son here, to Markus's good graces, for the wedding. They expected it all to get reported back, even if war wasn't still on the horizon it would be vital that they make a good impression.

It was getting to the point where everyone could see the carriages from the window. Everyone was running around, shouting from one rook to the next. But everything had been in place for days. They had gotten it as perfect as it would ever be. It was too late to change a thing, from the banners they had hung in the dining halls to the choice of wines for the feast and the flowers picked out for the wedding ceremony. Nothing could be made better with so little time left and yet everyone was trying.

And once the carriages had reached the very farthest walls of the city, the palace had stopped. Everyone stood at attention in the corridors and halls for their guests to tour the palace and Markus and all of his advisors stood on the steps of the palace. They had their chins high and he tried to look proud and dignified. He didn't want to seem afraid. Ever since he had been given a place of command in a growing rebellion he tried not to seem afraid.

The carriages had entered the courtyard and were starting to file through the cobblestone road to the front steps. Markus wasn't supposed to be here. He had grown up a servant in a rich man's household before he joined the fight. He wasn't supposed to be here, in a palace more than a thousand years old that had escaped the damage of the war. Here on the steps about to receive a prince as his betrothed. As a king. He didn't belong.

The carriages were white. As they slowed to a stop at the front steps, Markus was able to see the golden details carved and painted into the side. Ten large carriages, all of them were a gift just like the prince was.

"You're nervous," Simon said. He lingered just over Markus's right shoulder.

"Of course. I'm about to meet the love of my life. I'm marrying him tomorrow after all," Markus whispered back.

The driver stepped down and opened the door of the center carriage, the one that had stopped directly in front of the rug laid out on the steps. Markus held his breath, afraid of his future husband, afraid of seeing him for the very first time. What if he was a spy, an agent sent to destroy his new monarchy? What if the boy was simply cruel? He had heard stories of the queen.

He pushed up on his toes, trying to peer into the carriage to catch his first glimpse of his fiance. And all he saw was a head of long grey hair. An older man, old enough to be Markus's own father. His heart pounded in his chest, hands curling into shaking fists behind his back as he looked at the deepest and angry lines in the old man's face. The man turned, raising a hand and held it out to the open carriage door to help the next person down.

Leaning onto the older man's steady grip, the prince stepped out of the carriage. Markus saw the side profile, the boy looking up at the older man for a moment. He tried to study it, the curve of his nose and the soft brown curls tucked behind his ear. When he turned to look up at Markus he was able to get a glimpse of the prince's face for the first time. Big, round eyes staring curiously up at him.

"Your highness." Markus stepped down to him, taking the prince's outstretched hand. He had poured over the royal conduct books, his own experience as a servant in an artist's household had given him some knowledge of polite mannerisms, but greeting his fiance for the first time had to be perfect, precise. It would surely all he reported back to the boy's mother. Yet he felt so very awkward as he spoke. "Welcome to Jericho. My name is Markus."

The prince looked at him and then up at the palace. "Markus, yes. The new king," He murmured, almost to himself.

They stood there a moment, Markus watching the prince and the prince in turn seemed to be watching the flags blowing on top of the spires. His eyes narrowed as if he spotted something interesting, but when Markus turned to look he couldn't see a thing.

The older man cleared his throat. The prince looked at his companion with a frown before nodding.

"My name is Connor. I was sent here to marry some new king," He said, stepping around Markus up a few steps. He was once again looking at the palace, eyes on the spires.

It wasn't what he had expected. He had assumed their first words would be something more significant. That perhaps there would be something there. Some small hope that maybe this wasn't a huge mistake and instead the start of a wonderful partnership. And the prince seemed more interested in architecture.

The introductions were short and formal, Connor scanned everything he saw with a focused fascination. He didn't say a word as Markus introduced his advisors, the heads of staff. The prince greeted them with polite disinterest and instead of lingering with small talk they began the tour. The prince had the older man always a few steps behind him, always staring at Markus while his fiance looked at everything except him. Connor spoke only during the tour of the palace to ask questions Markus didn't have the answers to. He wondered if it was on purpose.

"The stones in one tower is different than the stones in another," Connor said, pointing up at the tallest portions of the palace. They had moved from touring one of the smaller, more private dining rooms and into the courtyard, following the flower lined paths. "Why?"

"I believe one was destroyed and then rebuilt a few centuries ago," Markus said. He didn't know if it was true or not. He had spent so much time struggling to he a proper king and then the added burden of political arrangements and properly taking on a husband. Marrying into royalty. Markus had no idea why the stones were different from one tower to the next.

"There is an observatory in the South tower," Markus said and pointed up at the spire. Markus couldn't recall what was in the other.

Connor hummed, not sparing a glance at the other workers standing completely still off to the side. Their heads tilting down respectfully. North, Simon, and Josh had all gone above and beyond to make things seem as proper as possible, but it was difficult to know for certain if they got things right.

"When was the palace built?" Connor asked as they stepped through the large set of double doors from the garden into ceremonial chapel.

"Nearly a thousand years ago," Markus said.

"By whom?"

Markus frowned. "I don't know."

Connor looked back at him and frowned slightly. Certainly this counted as an embarrassment on his part. A king who didn't know the history of his own castle. Markus stared right back, meeting the prince's eyes, and held steady. He had no reason to be ashamed. He never had the luxury of growing up with a few hundred tutors and scholars on call to train him to be king. He had to learn everything as he went.

"Oh." Connor said softly.

Markus looked away from him. Instead he focused on the chapel. It was always elaborately decorated, prepared for the royal family to have their ceremonies and celebrations. This time it was decorated with hundreds of flowers, laced together and hanging around the windows like beautiful drapes. Lanterns hung in every window, illuminating against the stained glass panels.

The tour of the palace had been rushed and only for the basic introduction. Tomorrow morning they would be married. The ceremony taking place just before sunset and followed by the feast, for his court and everyone Connor had brought along with him.

Markus didn't want to say he was disappointed and suspicious, but he hadn't seen anything other than a prince not at all interested in him and seemingly fascinated with the palace. As if he was studying it.

Markus turned his attention to the old man at Connor's side. In the few readings he had done on their neighboring country, besides the rumors he had heard over the years, he had learned about the royal guards. Life sworn to the crown and always adorned in their white cloaks. The man always lingered over Connor's shoulder, hand hovering just over his back as the prince climbed the steps to view the altars.

Unlike Connor, the guard had no interest in the design and history of the palace. No questions about their new home. The man only looked at Connor, sparring a few narrow eyed glances at Markus and his advisors.

Markus wondered if he was just here as a formality, or if the Queen sent the guard to make sure Connor was safe with them. They were a new kingdom, won from revolution that overthrew their allies so it would be best to send their oldest child with protection. Markus had no intention of hurting him, but he understood caution.

The other option was that they were all sent to spy. To seek out weaknesses. To build strategy. What better spies would there be other than a promised bride and his loyal bodyguard.

"Your majesty," Connot said. His soft voice cut through Markus's swirling thoughts and suspicions. "Perhaps you should show us my chambers so I can get settled in before supper."

"Of course. You must be exhausted by your journey," Markus said. He stepped forward and offered a kind smile. In an instant, both his and the guard's hand rose up as an offering to help the prince down the steps.

Markus almost dropped his hand and backed away, the sudden feeling of embarrassment that he was intruding. Although it was likely customary for the prince's private guards to help with such small things, Markus didn't drop his hand. He was the king now and he didn't drop his hand or move back.

When everything was reported back to Queen Amanda, Markus wanted it known that he was polite and welcoming.

Connor took neither of their hands. He walked down the steps without issue and kept his chin up, eyes drifting over the vaulted ceiling, and out the door again. The guard didn't give Markus a second glance, he continued to follow close behind his prince.

Markus turned back towards North, Simon, and Josh. His comrades and trusted advisors who had joined them on the tour, getting their first impression of Markus's new husband at the same time he was.

"He's very handsome," Simon said after a moment, nodding encouragingly.

Markus let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. Yes, the prince was handsome. All soft features, from the round eyes to the brown curls that fell over his forehead. He was foreign, he felt off putting, and Markus wasn't sure if he was trustworthy or not. Connor was a stranger. He didn't seem malicious but so soon off the cusp of war and his arrival had too many political implications for Markus to trust him.

They stepped back out onto the gardens and found Connor kneeling next to a flower bush, fingers delicately brushing over the soft blue petals. He was leaned in close, lips pursed, fingers moving to tap curiously against the stem.

"We don't have flowers like this in my country. What is it?" The prince asked, finger still tapping on the stem, so close to the thorns that Markus was worried he would prick his finger.

"It's everywhere here. It has healing benefits, when ingested it's been known to fight off fevers and inflammation," Markus said. The flowers were also known for their vivid color. Markus was pleased to see so many planted in the gardens. He remembered the old manor he worked in, Carl teaching how to make dyes and paints.

"It is edible?" Connor asked.

Markus nodded. "Yes."

Connor let out a soft hum and plucked a petal from a flower to quickly plop into his mouth.

"Connor!" The guard shouted, hand flying out to grab the prince's wrist.

Immediately Connor's face twisted as he spat the crushed bits of petal out into his hand, expression changing from the neutral look Connor had all day to one of disgust as he physically flinched away from the bush. Markus tried not to laugh, biting his lip to hold it in as Connor made a soft gagging sound.

"That's dreadful. It's poison," Connor said quickly, turning towards his guard and accepting the handkerchief the man offered. Markus heard a chuckle from behind him as the prince wiped his tongue.

"It's not poison. It's better when brewed into tea. We have a cook here, she likes to add it to stews," Markus said.

Connor looked at him, eyebrows furrowed and nose still wrinkled in a look of displeasure. "I certainly hope none of those stews will be at supper."

"A few."

Markus couldn't help but laugh at how scandalized Connor looked, surprised and uncomfortable and annoyed. He glanced behind him and saw North hiding her face in her hands and Simon and Josh trying their best not to smile and laugh.

Connor didn't say anything else as they made their way back through the palace. The royal chambers faced the gardens, overlooking the courtyards, the chapel, and the acres of property without the view of the city on the other side of the palace.

Markus liked that. From his window he saw miles of forest. He had never been a landscape painter, but the view from his window sparked inspiration every time he looked at it. His easel on the balcony, a balcony he now shared.

They had separate rooms, separate bathrooms, separate doors to the balcony. Identical apartments connected by a single door that could be locked in either side. Markus had it locked. He had locked it the day he moved in, the day after his rushed coronation, when the new leaders of Jericho decided he should be king.

"The servants had already brought up your bags and all of your handmaidens have all been settled in." Markus said when he delivered Connor to his door.

"Thank you for the hospitality. After such a long journey it has been appreciated." Connor said.

They stood for a moment, facing one another. Connor was shorter, but not by much. He only had to tilt his head down a tiny bit to look Connor in the eyes. They only maintained eye contact for a moment before Connor's attention was pulled away, over his left shoulder to his guard, always right behind him.

"Dinner is within an hour. I'll send someone to collect you." Markus said.

Connor nodded. "We should get settled then." He took a step towards the door, looking back at the guard again. "Hank."

The two of them slipped through the door and it shut tightly. Markus watched it for a moment, wondering if Connor's heart was pounding as hard as he was. It was strange. Tomorrow Markus was going to marry that boy, he didn't trust him, and every interaction they have had today had been stifled and awkward.

He took a step back, putting some distance between himself and the shut door his soon-to-be husband had disappeared behind. A man Markus was about to spend the rest of his life with.

"That went well." Josh said first. Everyone fell into step behind Markus, following him wherever he was even though he didn't know the palace enough to know exactly where he was going.

"It didn't." Markus said with a slight shake of his head. "I think they're spies."

"They're definitely spies. Did you see how he was looking at the castle? As if he was memorizing it?" North said.

"Let's not expect the worst. Perhaps he was just interested in architecture." Josh said.

"Or the history." Simon added.

"Or he wanted to know the layout in case whoever he is reporting back to wanted to organize an armed invasion." Markus said. 

He didn't know how to feel about the boy. They only had a few hours together and it was ripe with awkward conversation and cautious behaviors. He didn't trust him. Markus wished there was a path to peace that didn't involve him marrying a stranger he could hardly hold a conversation with, let alone trust not to lead foreign armies into his kingdom and his home.

They walked in silence for a moment, the situation weighing in everyone differently. Regardless if their suspicions, the war was over as long as the agreements held. There was a foreign prince residing in this castle and tomorrow Markus would marry him. As long as this peace continues, Markus decided he didn't care.


	2. Connor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments so far!! Im really excited to be writing this.

"I told you to stop putting things in your mouth," Hank said.

Connor sat in the center of the room, in a cushioned arm chair they had brought along, far from any other piece of furniture in the room. Hank was tearing it apart. Every drawer ripped from the dressers and the shelves cleared of their contents. Hank was looking for any hidden dangers, a venomous viper or poisoned needle, tucked away until Connor unknowingly reached for it.

"He said I could eat it," Connor said, eyes following Hank around the room, everything being thrown to the floor by his trusted guard.

"He could have been lying," Hank said.

"You honestly think they would bring me all the way here just to kill me?" Connor asked.

Hank was never supposed to leave his side, Captain Fowler's orders as soon as his mother declared that Connor had to leave and get married. The rebel king, the guards and advisors had called Markus, had successfully overthrown one of Amanda's longest friends and allies. The Queen decided it would be best to insert her power into the new monarch instead of pursuing war.

Connor felt like he was in the den of enemies. Surrounded by strangers, revolutionaries, and who cared little for him at all except for a bit of political placement.

"Actually, I think they would probably wait until after the wedding. Make it look like an accident, that way they can still keep the treaty," Hank said as he began to rip the sheets from the bed, pulling out his knife to cut into the pillows and mattress.

"Maybe they would just kill me in my sleep. The king's bedroom is right there," Connor said, pointing to the door that separated their chambers.

Hank looked at it with a frown, the feathers from his bedding surrounding him like snow. "I could brace the door shut."

Connor looked at the door and thought about the man who would be sleeping behind it. His husband after tomorrow, a man that Connor knew almost nothing about, besides the bloody rumors of his rebellion that made their way home to him and his family, mostly through servants whispering in the corners, overhearing his mother or her generals in private conversations. Connor and his brother were usually kept out of war discussions, they relied solely on rumors unless there mother had a special task for them, a reason for them to know any political secrets.

"Perhaps it would be best. Can you have it braced shut before tonight?" Connor asked.

Hank had checked under the bed and moved on to the vanity. "I can get it done tonight after dinner, when you're having your bath," Hank promised. He was pulling out the drawers now, dumping the contents onto the floor and checking each one for a false bottom. He was to check every nook and cranny of Connors private chambers, not a single inch of it left unexplored.

"Still, if they were going to have me killed in my sleep the assassin could very well come through the window. They could blame it on some other country, some scorned diplomat who wanted to be king," Connor said, eyeing the doors to his balcony.

"It wouldn't be an assassination, even if they blamed someone else it would be too obvious. You think the Queen would believe such an obvious lie?" Hank said. He turned away from the vanity enough to give Connor a playful grin. "But if next week you are mysteriously thrown from your horse and break your neck, no one would question an accidental tragedy, right? They get out of the marriage and the treaty stands."

Connor smiled, watching as his hairbrushes and scented lotions were thrown onto the floor as Hank searched every drawer and cupboard.

"I'm fairly good on a horse. Even Richard wouldn't fall for a lie like that. They'll have to try better than that when they kill me," Connor said.

Hank laughed, body shaking as the sound rumbled deep in his chest. Perhaps it was morbid, discussing which ways their hosts would try to assassinate him before or after he married the king. It was what made the most sense, why would two enemies so quickly agree to join houses. Connor knew his mother's reasons, he just wished he knew Markus's. He wished he knew for certain if he was safe here.

At least he had Hank. He always had Hank. And the man had stayed by his side for years, his life sworn to protect Connor's. They could joke about assassination attempts but Hank would never let it happen, everything he owned scattered across the room and all the drawers and shelves emptied, the feathers from his mattress and pillows strewn across the floor, was proof of that.

"All clear in here. I'll send for someone to clean this up and then I'll check the bathroom. Try to be ready for dinner," Hank said. His hands settled in his hips, eyes scanning the mess he had made. His eyebrows furrowed, a bit of a frown seen through his beard.

He turned towards the door and asked for one of the servants to tend to Connor's room. It was a mess, everything torn apart, but not a single boonytrap found.

"Hank?" Connor asked, the man stopping at the bathroom door. "In the garden… were they laughing at me?"

Hank looked him in the eyes, sucking in a breath and opening his mouth to speak. Then he hesitated, the silence stretching on for a few more moments.

"No, of course not." Hank said, turning away towards the bathroom, ready to tear it apart like he did this one.

Connor didn't want to dwell on it. Hank had lied to him, but he had guessed it might not matter. He was here for a purpose and his job didn't include making a good impression among the king's associates.

The servants began to put everything back in their designated locations and Connor was sure to let them know if they misplaced anything. They didn't falter, following his instructions as he gave them. Everyone who worked with him he had brought from home, all people who knew how he liked things and what to do if he didn't. It was Hank's insistence, stating that no handmaidens from Jericho would be trustworthy enough with his care. Connor was just appreciative of how calming it was, how familiar that he knew everyone's names and faces.

Someone came to brush his hair, sooth down his messy curls, just a small bunch of strands falling over his forehead. They helped him get dressed for the dinner feast.

It was held in one of the dining halls Connor had seen in the tour earlier. It felt different when it was full of people, all of the noise echoing off of the walls and the music swelling. Markus had been kind enough to warn him about which stews had that awful blue flower brewed into them. Still, Hank stepped in and tried the first bite of each dish set in front of Connor.

Connor smiled fondly when no poison claimed the life of his friend. Poison seemed unlikely, given that Hank hadn't found any traps in the bathroom either. He turned his attention to the man sitting next to him.

Markus had been mostly silent all through the feast, occasionally leaning to his left to speak to the blond man at his side. He hardly said a thing to Connor. Perhaps he had no interest in Connor at all, not even enough to he rid of him. Or perhaps Hank was right, they would wait a few weeks and make it seem like an accident.

"The food is wonderful," Connor said to him. Markus looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. Connor continued. "I am quite pleased."

"Kara took special care in making sure there were dishes from your own country. She has been doing more research than most of us. I told her that you didn't like those blue flowers from the garden so it should all be to your liking," Markus said. His smile was soft and his voice even.

Connor could see how people would trust the man. His entire demeanor was calming, trusting. He spoke with some calm control and Connor felt some of his anxiety melt. But a few people at the table shared knowing looks and humorous smiles and giggles were hidden poorly behind hands. All at the mention of the flowers, of the special food from Connor's home. Connor looked at the king's mismatched eyes and tried to see if he was being mocked and he found nothing but Markus's steady gaze staring back at him. It surprised him, pinning Connor with wonder as he looked at the one blue eye, one green, a clear difference but similar enough that he hadn't noticed before.

Connor looked back down at the table, breaking eye contact first. "You should let her know how much I appreciate it."

"You can thank her tomorrow. She's preparing the wedding feast as well," Markus said.

The king nodded towards the tables and Connor followed his gaze. Towards the end of one of the front tables, spots usually reserved for esteemed guests and diplomats, sat a small family. The woman Connor assumed was the lead chef sat with her family, leaning in close to speak happily to the large man next to her, their little girl tucked between them on the bench.

Connor watched them for a moment, memorizing the details of her face so that if he saw her tomorrow he could thank her. So many of the foods were so familiar and so much like home, he could only imagine the number of cookbooks she slaved over.

He had long eaten his fill, but there were still hours of entertainment planned. Singers of the capital here to show off their skills with ballads of ancient stories. Some Connor had read in books, some so unique to this kingdom that he had never heard of them before.

As the night went on the songs got faster, more festive as the wine was passed around, cups filled, and everyone drunk and happy. Connor had covered his cup once the warmth had started to settle in his belly a bit too much.

There was so much laughter in the room, swelling over the music. Connor ooked towards the king, where Markus had almost turned entirely away from him and leaning over to share jokes and stories. All of them were grinning.

Connor twisted around, turning to ask Hank if they could leave. He saw the man tilt his head back,taking long drinks from his cup. Hank's cheeks were flushed red and his eyes were already seeking out another jug to get a refill.

The room was starting to swell with noise, ringing in his ears. He looked over the room of strangers all singing songs he didn't recognize. They were all so happy and he was just so tired. He wished he could go home.

"I can walk you back to your room if you would like," Markus said, leaning in close enough for his voice to be heard over the music.

Connor let out a small sigh of relief, looking over Markus's shoulder to the king's advisors -his friends- to see if they were sharing in anymore whispered jokes and laughs. Instead they leaned heavily on one another, one of them sleeping on his folded up arms on the table. It must be getting late then.

"Please," Connor said.

He stood up, the king standing with him. Immediately, Hank's attention snapped back to him and despite the slight redness of his eyes and unevenness of his steps, he was ready to help Connor towards the door.

When they stepped out of the dining hall and the door clicked shut behind them all of the noise turned into a dull, muffled hummed. A few cheers chased them down the hall, loud enough for Connor to look curiously over his shoulder, but it all disappeared the farther the three of them walked.

Hank walked behind them. He seemed mostly steady, but Connor knew him long enough to know he was a bit unsteady. Still, he trusted the man to step in if anything happened.

"Do the feasts here always get so rowdy?" Connor asked.

Markus smiled, looking over to him and once again Connor paused his breathing when he looked into the mismatched eyes.

"They have had a lot to celebrate the last few months. If you think this is rowdy you should have seen them all after the war was won," Markus said.

Connor tried to imagine something louder, something more wild and ridiculous than the dining room they had just left, a few stray cords from a musician following them up the stairs and then disappearing from earshot. The idea of it made Connor's head hurt and his stomach twist.

"Tomorrow will be worse, but you only need to stay for the feast, the gifts, and a bit of dancing. So you can tell your mother you had a decent wedding," Markus said, leaning a bit closer as the walked down the hall. "I am sure she is awaiting your letter describing the event to her."

Connor stared ahead, eyeing his door as soon as they rounded the corner. His heart was beating, a drumming to go along with the buzzing in his head. He was stressed, but he kept himself looking calm. He had much he should tell his mother but the letter couldn't be sent until after the wedding. There was no time to have something sent off, especially when Connor was positive the king and his people would have all of his letters read and studied before sending them off.

"She knows how little I care for noisy parties, so you don't need to worry about me writing about the drunken singing getting a little… unrestrained. I'll probably follow your advice and retire early tomorrow," Connor said. They were coming up towards his door.

They stopped a few feet away from Connor's door. Markus stepping in front and turning to face him, nose wrinkled slightly but otherwise he kept the same neutral expression he always had. It was an admirable trait in a king, almost always looking calm.

"I have a question. Is the royal guard supposed to drink while on duty?" Markus asked, looking over Connor's shoulder towards Hank.

Connor tilted his head back, keeping it high and his chin pointed. "Lieutenant Anderson is more than capable of fulfilling his duties after a few glasses of wine. Would you like him to show you?"

Markus blinked, eyes meeting Connor's again. "Is that a threat?"

"It's a warning. Isn't it strange how threats and warnings are so easily mistaken for one another," Connor said.

He stepped around Markus, knowing full well that if the man tried to stop him then Hank would step in. Markus would he lucky to get a broken wrist and Connor would still he trapped in a foreign castle, the treaty abandoned and the wedding called off because the king was attacked by one of Connor's drunken guards.

But Markus didn't reach out to stop him and Hank kept his distance as he moved to follow. Connor didn't say anything as he slipped through the door. He didn't offer his fiance any good night wishes, didn't discuss the morning wedding, didn't utter a word. Hank slipped through the door behind him and Connor shut it tight. He latched shut the lock and stepped back from the door, watching it for a moment. He hoped Markus would just head back down to dinner.

"Connor…" Hank said softly, somewhere behind him.

"You should get some sleep. I will need you tomorrow," He said. He didn't take his eyes off the door, but he did take a few steps back.

"Gavin is coming to stand watch in an hour. I'll stay until then," Hank said.

Connor nodded, flinching as the older man laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. He finally looked away. Nothing would come bursting through the door, no one was coming to kill him, and for the time being he had Hank here.

He turned towards his writing desk, everything carefully tucked away where it should be. There was no sign of the previous mess Hank had made when he searched the place and everything, even the torn bedding replaced by some he had brought from home, was only ever touched and handled by his handmaidens. Everything was safe.

The chair was soft and cushioned, easy to sink into and let out all the tension from the day with a long and relieving sigh. He slumped over, burying his face in his arms. It had been busy. After a few days of travel they had reached their destination, Connor had met his almost husband, toured his new home, and had it torn apart to look for tricks and traps. He had sat through a loud, celebratory feast that he felt like he had no part in and now he was finally allowed to rest and sleep. Everything happened too fast, too much for a single day.

After the wedding, things would slow down. As long as the peace held.

Connor reached for some paper. He unscrewed the cap to the ink and dipped his pen in. The letter would need some work, but he wanted to get the day's events down on paper. His mother wanted details and so he wanted them fresh in his mind.

_ "Dear Mother, _

_ I have made it to Jericho and was greeted with celebrations. The newly freed people are eager to perform their joy at the feasts and wine. The wedding is to be stunning, the flowers seem woven into curtains in the chapel." _

There was a code. A between-the-lines sort of messaging that they had worked on until Connor could speak in person. The king would have his letters watched.

_ "I can see it from my window. The chapel sits tucked into a lovely garden behind the castle, empty and natural land spreading for miles beyond the walls into mountains and dense forests. The garden makes me miss home, they have filled it with blue flowers which do nothing but make me fondly miss your rose bushes." _

She had asked him for the castle layout, where the easiest point of entry would be. They could hide a battalion in the forests behind the castle should it come to that. The chapel rested close to the wall, where people could sneak over easily without being seen from the guard posts.

_ "The style of architecture is different from home. The Eastern Tower of the palace has different stonework than the rest of the building and Markus has told me it was destroyed and rebuilt, though he doesn't know by who." _

It could be a point of structural weakness, rebuilt onto an existing structure, but there could be damages that hadn't been cleared away. A tower clinging to old stones and wood damaged and reinforced during the renovation. And his mother would see his note on Markus as well. The man didn't know his own castle. He didn't know which parts needed more defence and which parts of the building could hold its own against an invading army.

Connor frowned, looking over to the door again and then to Hank sleeping in the armchair by the door. Could they really afford another war? Hank had barely escaped the front lines when their old allies called for aid. Only because Connor had insisted. Only because he had begged his mother on his knees not to send the old man away. Hank had always been by his side since he was a boy, since Hank had sworn his oath and turned away from his old life.

And now they were here. There would be no escaping a war this time. Connor looked down at his letter again. His mother demanded answers. She wanted to know all about the man Connor was marrying and everything he ruled over. He never questioned why but he suspected she wanted either war or power or both. It wasn't his place to question it.

He pushed the letter away. He would have to work on it more. She would want to know about the wedding in the first letter. There are things he wanted to tell her and he had to edit it. He had to be careful of what he said.

Connor moved away from the desk, exhaustion still weighing heavily on him. He tossed a blanket over Hank, still asleep in the armchair, snoring slightly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think. I need comments to thrive


	3. Markus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops

The wedding was early in the afternoon. Markus hadn't slept that night, could hardly keep his eyes closed. He didn't want to get married. He didn't want to commit himself to Connor. There was nothing between them but a political arrangement.

Despite the sinking feeling of regret settling over him and the disgust he felt in his stomach when he caught his reflection in the mirror, all dressed up in a royal wedding uniform with the collar buttoned high on his neck and a small cloak draped over one shoulder, he didn't call it off. He waited for Simon to fetch him and take him to the spot he would wait in the chapel.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Simon asked. They had walked across the gardens towards the chapel, but Markus turned to look up at the windows. It was early, the sun throwing long rays of the lingering colors of sunrise.

"It's a bit too late to change my mind," Markus said. He could easily make out his windows, his painting easel still left out on the balcony. He saw the flickering shadows of the room next to his, lights shining inside and the look of movement.

"It's never too late. We could say all the pressures of ruling made you panic and you had to call off the wedding because the lovely prince deserved a more...focused husband? Thats an idea," Simon said. He turned towards Markus, a small smile on his lips.

"I'm sure Queen Amanda would be thrilled to hear about how I stood up her beloved son at the altar on his wedding day in my castle. War would definitely be avoided then," Markus said. 

He thought he could see Connor in his window. Markus kept staring, his heart picking up the longer he stood there at the steps of the chapel. He wasn't supposed to see Connor before the ceremony started, and the time was coming up fast, but he still watched in hopes of stealing a glance.

"How beloved of a son could he be," Simon said, his questioning tone calling for Markus's attention, "if she sent him all the way here alone."

"He's not alone," Markus said. He let out a sigh and turned his back to the castle to climb the steps.

"He has a handful of guards and servants. I wonder how she knew we wouldn't kill him," Simon said with a thoughtful tone.

Markus wondered as well. A few months ago they would have been enemies. They would have tried to kill each other in war. Now Markus stood at the altar of a royal chapel about to marry a prince. An enemy prince.

Markus stepped up towards the altar to wait, Simon moving to stand at his side. The time was coming up quickly, people still running around to make sure everything was perfectly placed.

"Who knows," Simon said, the slow swell of music starting to build. "Maybe we are just expecting the worst. Maybe in time you two will learn to love one another."

Markus was doubtful.

Markus scanned the crowd, everyone filtering in early to start. The room seemed so coherent, so uniform as every color seemed to go well with one another, from the flowers to the gowns the guests wore. It all blended together, Markus had to focus on their faces, at the crests embroidered on their shoulders. Hardly any guests had come from Connor's country.

There were dozens though from everywhere else. Political delegates, foreign ambassadors, and even some nobility come to see the new kingdom’s first royal wedding. Potential Allies, pathways towards extending the peace. Opportunities Markus wouldn’t have if not for his husband. 

Connor's eyes were downcast when he stepped through the doors. The music swelled, the orchestra never losing its beat and each note perfectly in tune. The prince himself looked stunning, crisp and delicate fabric of his white vest and jacket was embroidered with gold thread. It wasn't anything Markus had expected, his own clothes were nothing more than the formal uniform of a high ranking general. North had insisted upon it, promising him it was appropriate. Connor looked as though he had dressed to meet God.

He looked like an aristocrat in the essence of it all. He looked like wealth, clean and pure and golden. His hands were soft and smooth while Markus's were cracked and rough from years of being a servant and then a soldier.

How could Markus ever fall in love with him? Connor represented something Markus had spent so much trying to fight. An ally to an old monarch, someone to turn up his nose at Markus and his people and have the nerve to tell former slaves and servants that their celebrations were 'unrestrained'.

Markus looked towards the front row towards his side, where Carl sat on the very end. He was watching Connor approach the altar, eyes drifting slowly until they came up to meet Markus's. He smiled sadly and nodded. They had discussed this and Markus wasn't afraid to let the old man know he wasn't keen on marrying the enemy.

Connor didn't meet his eyes as he took his place at his side. He had his head slightly bent forward, hands folded loosely behind his back. The prince made no indication that the ceremony had even started, his eyes unfocused as the priest began.

The Prince of Detroit, Connor Stern, would not look up at any of them. His body was rigid and stiff, unnaturally still. Markus wanted to reach out, see if he was still warm and alive. Markus had many regrets. He wished he wasn't here. He wished gaining his freedom gave him a quiet home in the countryside instead of a palace and responsibilities and this horrible wedding. Perhaps Connor regretted it all as well.

They were to turn and face one another, they were supposed to take each others hands and vow servitude and security and dedication to one another. Markus was sure Connor was as insincere with his vow as Markus was. They didn’t touch one another and Connor’s eyes never lifted to meet their own. 

They were supposed to kiss. In front of everyone. In front of God, in front of all the diplomats, all of their friends and families. The vows were short and traditional, neither of them had anything special to add. Neither of them wanted to declare anything too ridiculous. Markus wished there was a way to stall, a way to convince everyone here at the last moment that marriage wasn’t necessary. There were other ways to avoid war that didn’t involve being bound to this man. 

Connor wrinkled his nose, chin lifting up as his eyes drifted back to the seated crowd. They were roaming. Markus tried to follow his gaze, see what the prince was looking for, and then he settled on the bodyguard. An old knight. Someone as untrustworthy as the prince himself.

“Just a quick kiss,” Markus whispered quickly. It was all they had left to do and the ceremony would be over. “Then you can go back to your room.”

Certainly Connor didn’t have any interest in staying. Markus didn’t want to attend his own wedding party either, but he was the king and he was expected to receive gifts and prayers and well wishes. He was expected to attend. 

“You want me to leave?” Connor said, wrinkling his nose and reaching out to firmly grasp one of Markus’ hands.

Markus blinked. “Wouldn’t you prefer it?” He asked. 

Connor didn’t quite look angry. His eyes were unwavering, staring directly back at him, the full weight of his attention finally on Markus. He was still for only a moment. Connor leaned forward, eyebrows drawn together in a firm line, and pulling hard on Markus’ hand.

The kiss was brief. Just a quick press of their lips. Markus felt Connor’s nose against his cheek. Then after a single breath he pulled back sightly, twisting to peek at the people watching. His nose wrinkled. 

“Unless you’re ordering me back to my room then I would like to stay for the party, your Majesty,” Connor said. His tone was low. He was angry.

“It's your wedding,” Markus said.

They pulled apart from one another. Connor’s arm slid into Markus’s and stood next to him as they walked down the aisle towards the doors. It was important to be seem arm in arm, displaying a strong union for all of their guests. Markus held him close, surprised by the sudden shift from Connor’s indifferent silence to a frustrated anger.

His mouth was dry. His tongue darted out onto dry lips as Connor nearly dragged him forward by the hard grip on his arm. His new husband walked a steady path through the garden and into the castle, towards the ballroom where their wedding celebration was being held. If he didn’t know any better he would have thought Connor was excited.

They had seats next to each other, between the banquet tables full of food and the rows and rows of dining tables for the guests. There was still plenty of room for dancing, but mostly there place was to sit and watch professional singers and dancers. A wedding was a celebration and Markus wished he could join them all as they twirled and spun around the ballroom. He didn’t think Connor would want to dance with him. Perhaps the prince would think of it as unrestrained. 

Markus made sure the wine circulated and everyone had a full cup. Every guest should go home feeling satisfied. Everyone should be happy and friendly and ready to discuss trade and political treaties. Markus drank, letting the warmth relax him. If Connor had drank anything, Markus didn’t see it.

Connor’s bodyguard, on the other hand, never turned away a refill of his cup. He was easily distracted it seemed, Markus didn’t know why they would send such a poor knight to protect their country’s oldest prince. It was unprofessional. Despite the party and celebration, North stayed sober. She stayed focused. Her and most of the royal guards, just in case anything happened. And Connor’s only form of protection was openly drinking.

It was unnerving. A very obvious flaw in Connor’s protection for everyone at the wedding to see. Amanda Stern was known to be cunning and intelligent, why would she send her son off in the protection of an obvious drunk?

Markus looked at Connor. He had been quiet all through the feast. He had been watching. Markus wanted to ask Connor if it made him nervous, his drunken bodyguard. Did Connor know how much danger he was actually in?

He followed Connor’s eyes, looking for what the boy was staring so intently at. It was the cake. On display at the center of the largest table surrounded by food. It was large enough to serve several hundred guests. Frosting had been piped into delicate patterns along the side. The desert was tall, it had taken days to bake and out together once all the plans were made and it was time to prepare it. Markus had never had such an extravagant cake. Before, Markus used to sneak bites in the kitchens during Carl’s parties, something any other master but Carl would have him punished for, but nothing like this. Certainly Connor was used to big expensive desserts.

“Do you want some cake?” Markus asked, leaning over to speak softly to his hips husband. 

Connor narrowed his eyes. “It’s not time for cake yet,” he whispered back.

“We can have cake now, it wouldn’t be an issue.” Markus said.

Something didn’t sit right in his chest, some tight and sick feeling that made Markus’ fists clench. Connor hadn’t smiled once. He had hardly looked up and kept his eyes low. It wasn’t that he was miserable. Markus would understand if the prince was upset, he could understand. Connor almost seemed bored, put off. Uncomfortable, but no visible feelings one way or another. Maybe Connor just wanted cake.

“No,” Connor said softly. “The wedding is on a schedule.”

“I’m the king. If you want to have cake then we can have the cake.” Markus said.

Connor huffed. His lips pressed together in a thin line and his eyebrows drew close together. Markus wasn’t sure how to describe him. He didn’t look happy, but Markus was used to seeing his people sad and desperate and miserable and Connor’s face was a mask if blank indifference compared to that.

“I don’t want cake,” Connor said

“You’ve been staring at it since the party began,” Markus said.

Connor didn’t respond, he just shook his head and sat back in his seat. The Prince’s eyes flickered back up to the cake and then drifted away. There was a firmness in Connor’s set expression. His jaw was clenched and Markus could see the tension in the muscles of his neck. He was looking everywhere except Markus and the cake. He was scanning the crowd. Connor’s fingers began to tap an odd pattern against the wood table. It was obvious that he was trying to ignore Markus.

“How about we skip to the cake and receive the presents? I’m getting bored of just watching the guests dance.” Markus leaned towards his husband and whispered. It was as if he was sharing a secret. “Unless you want to dance of course.”

Connor was suspicious of everything. He leaned away from Markus, eyes scanning the room once again, before turning back.

“We are supposed to sit here.”

“Why?”

Connor blinked, leaning away from him. Markus wondered about it. He wondered about how tightly Connor’s hands had curled into fists in his lap. Markus wondered about the way his eyes always scanned the room. The prince made Markus question things.

“Is this your first time at a  _ proper _ wedding party?” Connor asked slowly. His voice was mostly flat, but lifted at the end. The question sounded careful. Curious and cautious.

Connor had a way of saying things that Markus found unpleasant. He said ‘proper’ in the same way he had called them all ‘unrestrained’.

“Not as a guest.” Markus said. He turned away from Connor, his mood shifting back and forth from general dislike to curiosity like a ticking pendulum. He turned to Simon, sitting on his other side. “Let's skip to the feast. We will serve cake early tonight and we can receive gifts while we eat.”

Simon raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Good. I think we’ve had enough of the dancers.”

He stood up to pass the king’s orders around. The professional dancers in the midst of their routine for all of the guests began a quick finale. They were skipping the rest of the entertainment in favor of cake.

Instead of being happy or excited, Connor had no expression at all. He stared straight ahead as the staff brought the tables displaying the dinner and desserts in view. They would begin serving it in a moment. Markus watched Connor, waiting to see a flicker of anything on his face. Excitement? Annoyance? Anything.

Perhaps It was pointless. Why would he bother rearranging a traditional wedding ceremony? To get a rise from his husband? Just because he had been staring at cake?

The staff came to serve the plates, piled high with a little bit of everything, with the dishes within reach in case anyone wanted to grab more. All the extra food would be taken back to the kitchens for the staff to enjoy. Any food left over will be given out. Markus smiled. Nothing wasted. Everyone gets a share. The efficiency of it was satisfying.

Connor didn’t touch anything on his plate. He prodded the food with his fork, tore it to pieces and smeared it around in the different sauces. He was wasting it. Never once actually eating any of it.

“Perhaps I should return to my room.” Connor said flatly. He dragged a bit of sauce with his fork, painting his plate. He didn’t look up. “Your Majesty.”

“I thought you wanted to stay for the party.” Markus said.

Connor‘s expression stiffened further. “It would be best if I waited-“

“You’re upset.”

“-for you in the room.” Connor finished. His hand stilled, eyes lingering on the mess he had made of his dinner plate. Then Connor blinked, his head shot up to look at Markus. “What? No.”

“What did you say?” Markus asked.

He had heard it. There had been the slightest tremble in Connor’s voice. It was the most emotion they had heard from the Prince all day. The only thing that sounded like there was any depth to it. The waiver had been on the word “waited”.

“I’m not upset.” Connor said.

His gaze was steady.

“Why would you wait for me?” Markus said.

There was a pause.

The answer was obvious.

“We just got married.” Connor said.

There was another pause.

“Of course.” Markus said.

It wasn’t that he had forgotten. He had simply been ignoring it. At least trying to ignore the details of the arrangement. They were married now. The families were joined. Markus and Connor had to be joined. It was in the terms that were agreed to. Consummation of the union.

Connor stood up from the table. Markus suddenly felt too sick to eat. He didn’t watch his husband excuse himself from the dining table and slip through the large doors out of the ballroom. The food sat heavy in his stomach. He had hardly eaten anything and now he was worried he wouldn’t be able to keep it down.

Markus glanced up. Connor’s guard was gone, likely following his ward upstairs so he could get ready for the night.

A question was burning at the back of his mind. A string if possibilities that made his hands shake enough that Markus hid them under the table. Would the guard be in the room? Just to make sure Markus doesn’t stab Connor in their marriage bed, surely. Or perhaps to confirm to the Queen that the act took place at all.

Markus gripped his hands under the table, curling them into tight fists. The wedding felt over far too quickly. He should have dragged it out.


	4. Connor

Connor wasn’t entirely sure if he was to wait in his room or the King’s. He went to his own. It felt like the safer option. Markus would have the chance to summon him instead of coming to his own room to find Connor already there.

He looked around his bedroom. Everything had been prepared in advance. His mother’s handmaidens had specially picked out the clothes he was wearing tonight. Easy to remove and soft to the touch, but still proper. It was perfect and he had smoothed out most of the wrinkles. He had scented creams to rub into his skin and comb through his hair. He had his own handmaidens to help him prepare himself, but he sent them all away as soon as he got back from the party. There was food in the kitchens they could help themselves to.

If the party went along the schedule, Connor would know how much time he had left to get ready. He would know how long he had to prepare. Now the night was looming over him and he didn’t know how much longer he had to sit in here getting ready for Markus to summon him.

“You okay, kid?” Hank asked.

Connor paused, his eyes lingering on the bit of hair that refused to stay in place. He looked imperfect.

“I’m waiting to be summoned,” Connor said. “I have to be ready for when he wants me. I don’t know how much time I have.”

There was supposed to be a schedule. There was a time frame of how long everything was going to be. Connor tilted his head to the side to look over his hair. He didn’t want to be subpar. There were expectations.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Hank asked. He was standing diligently at Connor’s door, watching over the room but not stepping too far into it.

“That would be counterproductive,” Connor said.

“For who?” Hank said, letting out a soft huff. “If you wanted, we could get you out of here. You don’t have to do this, not really.”

“You know what would happen if I didn’t. Pointless war,” Connor said. He didn’t want to call his handmaidens back, he didn’t want their hands moving through his hair and rubbing his skin and adjusting his clothes.

“You ever think this stuff isn’t your responsibility?” Hank said. He took a single step closer. 

Connor wrinkled his nose. “It’s my duty to my people,” Connor said. He turned away from the mirror, too tired to look at himself any longer. He wondered what his husband thought when he saw him. He faced Hank, wondering what his loyal guard thought. “You cared about duty. Back when I was young, you were the most respected guard in my mother’s court. You became the youngest soldier to he put on our family’s protection detail. And now you want me to abandon my place?”

“Connor, that was all before,” Hank said slowly. He walked further into the room, putting too much distance between him and the door. It was breaking the rules of the guard. He was putting Connor at risk. “Markus won’t seek out war, not because you don’t want to do this.”

Hank’s voice was soft. He had one hand reached out as an offering. Connor turned away, looked back at himself in the mirror, and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

The same ideas had been whispered to him in secret since the moment his mother told him he was to be sent away to be married. Ideas that he didn’t have to do it. That he could say no. Run away from his responsibilities.

“Leave me alone now,” Connor said. His hair wouldn’t stay in place.

“Connor, just think for yo-“

“Get out,” Connor said with more insistence.

Hank huffed again. His shoulders dropped as he let out a sigh. There were no more words passed between them and Connor didn’t turn away from his reflection as Hank finally left the room.

The music had died down. It was getting darker. If the wedding was on the normal schedule then there would be another two hours before the couple would slip away. Two hours. And that was if Markus hadn’t rushed things for the cake.

Two hours.

He wasn’t ready. He looked like a fool. Connor held his breath, coming back his hair. There was nothing to be afraid of, except an assassination attempt. Wouldn’t that be awful? His wedding night. Killed before he had to face his wedding bed by his husband’s own hand. Or was that preferable?

Amanda knew it was possible for him to die. There had been plans set for the event should it happen. The official plan that was agreed upon was marriage. He had a place at the head of a new country with strong trade allies. All the new leaders of Jericho were inexperienced and with him married to the king his mother had an easy path to power here. Through him. If he died then she would still pursue control, but the difference was it would be a war.

Either way the Queen would win. She would get what she wanted. But she had said it was better this way, she wanted him here, he was more valuable here alive. He would be taken care of. It was all in the details, he just had to follow through with his duty.

There was a quick, soft knock on his door. Sudden enough to yank Connor from his thoughts and he jumped to his feet. It was too early. Markus wasn’t supposed to send for him so soon. Connor wasn’t ready.

He looked in the mirror and tried one last time to brush the hair out of his face, frowning as it fell back into it. He tried not to dwell on any inadequacies. It didn’t matter what they all thought of him, he was here for a reason. He would do what he had to and Amanda would be pleased.

Connor opened the door and frowned at the woman standing in front of him. He should have expected it. He wasn’t being escorted by a maid or servant. He was being escorted by a guard. The head of Jericho’s security.

“Is he ready for me already?” Connor asked North. He tried to smile at her.

She looked at him, her nose wrinkled slightly, and gave a single nod. “He asked for you. I assume he’s ready.” She said.

Connor nodded and stepped out of his room. Their apartments were next to each other. Royal chambers, a door conjoining their spaces inside. This was for the guards to see. Hank stood in the hallway, eyes following them, but Connor let his attention drift past him. Markus had security at his door as well. It had to be seen that Connor was escorted to Markus’s room.

It displayed several things. It showed that Connor and Markus shared a bed on their wedding day. It showed their power balance. Markus was the King and Connor was the one beneath him, being summoned and called for whenever his husband wanted. Finally, all the guards, for both Connor and Markus, would see no one coming in or out. An assassin would have to come from the window or would already be inside.

Hank stepped closer, once again breaking the protocol. Connor pinned him with a look. He didn’t need any help from him. He had to do this. North was already knocking on the King’s door.

But for a moment, Connor wondered what would happen if he turned around. Hank had promised, one night on the long trip that they could run at any time. He didn’t know why. Until this mission, the Lieutenant had always ignored him. Had always caused trouble from the rumors he heard but he guarded the castle without so much as glancing at the prince. Maybe that was why he was sent on the mission, to be sent away.

And now he was encouraging Connor to run. An act of treason. They would be chased and captured before they could make it down the hall. Then what would happen? Markus could still demand him. Or kill him. Or send him back. Connor would he disgraced.

He stood still, eyes staring straight at the door. He held his breath until the door opened with a deep sounding creek. It was old architecture, Connor remembered. It hadn’t been oiled recently.

Markus didn’t say anything when they made eye contact. He stood in his doorway, blocking Connor’s view into the room. He looked exactly the same, still in the same clothes from the feast. Connor was the only one who actually needed to be presentable, he was the lesser. He was the one being summoned.

Markus’s lips twitched downward and, for a moment, Connor expected him to shut the door again. Instead he stepped back and gave Connor a clear path in.

“You may go,” Markus said to North before closing the door.

It clicked shut. The sound felt permanent. Connor felt like he couldn’t get out. He looked away, turning his back to his husband. It was a bad move, the man could stab him and Connor’s attention would be on the room.

It was a mirror image of his own, with all the furniture moved around and with more decorations adorning the walls and shelves. The bed was closer to the window. It was lovely, made from darkly stained wood, and Connor saw nothing else in the room besides that.

Would it be soft?

“Do you want something to eat? I brought up some cake.” Markus said. He walked past Connor, pointing towards the table and the small plates full of food. “You didn't eat much, I thought you might be hungry now.”

The food was a surprise. He had expected a lot of things but not a late supper. He found himself walking towards it, fingers tapping against his thigh.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get it out of the way first?” Connor asked softly. He nodded towards the bed, but his eyes lingered on the food.

“No.” It was all Markus said.

Silence settled over them as Connor watched the food. He could just reach out and put his hand on the chair. He had walked that far into the bedroom already. He couldn’t turn around and leave now. His stomach was turning. If he would be able to eat at all, it would have to be after. Right now his stomach felt like it was turning in knots. 

“You should eat,” Markus said.

Connor shook his head. “I can’t eat right now.”

“Fine,” Markus said. He turned around and looked at the room. Perhaps it was time then, no more putting it off. Connor looked back at the bed and Markus spoke again. “Do you know how to play chess?”

The question surprised Connor about as much as the food had. Neither were what he had come into the room for. Neither were what they were supposed to be doing.

“I do,” Connor said with a nod.

“I want you to play with me,” Markus said.

It was phrased almost like an order. Connor was familiar with the tactic. The King wanted something and Connor was like obligated to oblige.

“What are you doing?” Connor asked instead of

Moving towards the chess.

“I’m asking you to play a game,” Markus said.

Connor wrinkled his nose. “Are you ordering me to?”

“No, I’m not. The reason I became king was so people wouldn’t be forced into things. There’s always a choice,” Markus said.

It wasn’t a choice. It was a trick. They were testing his obedience, but the answer was difficult. Markus said multiple times that he wanted to play chess and Connor was encouraged to follow orders and blend in, but Connor’s mission was specific. Amanda had set the terms and Markus had agreed to them. They all knew it was necessary. Perhaps Markus was testing him on if he was actually going to do it. Connor was going to do it. Amanda had ordered him to.

“I’ll go wait on the bed until you’re ready,” Connor said.

He shouldn’t be caring so much. He shouldn’t be second guessing himself or letting his mind wander away from his mission. His fingers brushed over the quilt. It felt soft.

He sat down. Connor sank into the mattress but it was still high enough that his feet hovered just an inch above the floor.

Connor folded his hands on his lap. His eyes were downcast. The room felt cold, a chill breeze blew in from the open doors to the balcony. He was waiting for Markus to touch him.

He didn’t want to look up. There was just the sound of the chess pieces tapping on the board. Markus was setting it up. The room was so quiet that he could hear them sliding along the board into place.

  
  



End file.
